A Matter of Principle
by PsandQs
Summary: Post S10. Follow-up to Thicker than Water, which explains why Ruth is alive and in a relationship with Harry. A suicide bombing sets off a chain of events that will test Harry and his team to the limit, and forces Ruth to choose sides between Harry and her new boss.
1. Chapter 1

_Tottenham, London_

He stood across the road, and watched as the infidels drank and smoked and laughed outside the nightclub. Two men slipped into the adjacent alley and he thought they were about to do a drug deal. But to his surprise and then disgust, they engaged in a sexual act, rutting like two dogs, unconcerned that they were in full view of those walking along the main road. This blatant display of depravity removed the glimmer of doubt that he had tried so hard to suppress. He checked that his jacket was zipped up and stepped across the road. A young girl – surely she couldn't be more than fifteen – saw him come and her eyes lit up with interest. Many western women found him handsome and it had often been a source of great temptation, but he was proud of the fact that he had never succumbed to it. He reached her and she smiled widely at him. He could see her small breasts through her almost transparent blouse. Her pupils were dilated, he noted as she wiped a hand across her runny nose. So young, and already hooked on snorting cocaine. He looked around him – these were the people who wanted to tell his country how they should live. It was abhorrent. His gaze focussed on the girl as he unzipped his jacket, dark and intense, and her smile faltered as her drug-addled mind registered that something was not right.  
"Tonight you will burn in hell," he said, and pulled the wire.

A safe distance down the street, two men were seated in a car, one holding a video camera. The explosion rocked the vehicle, and when the smoke had drifted off and they could see the carnage, the other spoke quietly.  
"Make the call."

- 0 –

_Across the city, Home Office_

Harry leaned against the bar, a whisky in his hand, and watched as Ruth talked to a US diplomat. Tonight he was the Plus One, and he kept out of the way as she went about her business, more than happy to allow her her moment in the sun.  
"She's proved to be quite brilliant at smoothing ruffled feathers," a voice said at his elbow, and he turned to find William Towers standing next to him, his eyes fixed on Ruth.  
"I suppose she honed that skill over the many years she worked for you," he added cheekily with a sidelong glance at the man next to him.  
Harry gave him a look before turning his attention back to Ruth.  
"I think you'll find that Ruth can be brilliant at anything she puts her mind to," he responded, and wondered how much longer she would want to stay. She looked particularly lovely tonight, and he couldn't wait to take her home and undress her, and-  
His phone vibrated, interrupting their conversation, and his heart sank when he saw it was a Red Flash.  
"I have to take this," he informed the Home Secretary and headed for the hallway.  
He had a brief conversation with Erin before he returned to Towers' side. The Home Secretary took one look at his set face and knew that the news would not be good.  
"There was an explosion outside a Tottenham night club," he reported in a low voice. "Initial unconfirmed reports indicate a suicide bomber. Number of casualties not known yet."  
Towers sighed. "Keep me up to date."  
Harry nodded and headed across the room towards Ruth.

He gently touched her elbow and she turned to him, her surprise quickly changing to delight. It never ceased to warm him, this instinctive response to his presence.  
"Forgive me," he said to the American. "I need to borrow her for a minute."  
The man nodded, not entirely graciously. The Americans had still not forgiven Harry for his involvement in Jim Coaver's death and made sure that he knew it at every opportunity.  
Harry steered Ruth to the side, his hand in the small of her back, and bent his head close to her ear.  
"I have to go. Red Flash."  
She looked at him, her eyes filled with concern as she wordlessly asked the reason.  
"There was an explosion in Tottenham," he explained and kissed her cheek lightly. "Don't wait up – it's going to be a long night."  
Ruth squeezed his arm in acknowledgement and watched him walk from the room. She enjoyed her new job, but some days, especially when Harry was working on some crisis or other, she missed being on the Grid and in the middle of it all. She missed that rush of adrenaline when she discovered a vital piece of information, and the camaraderie of people equally committed to the cause. With a suppressed sigh, she moved back to the US diplomat.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

Harry stepped through the doors and into a hive of activity. Various televisions were on as officers monitored news coverage of the event, whilst others were on the phone or typing furiously on their computers. He caught Erin's eye and she came over.  
"CCTV footage confirms that it was a suicide bomber." She handed him a grainy image of the young man in his bulky jacket.  
"ID?" Harry asked as he loosened his bowtie.  
"Not yet," Calum said from his station. "I'm working on it."  
"Work faster. Casualties?"  
Dimitri joined them. "Five confirmed so far. That may go up once they've sorted through all the body parts."  
"Okay. I'll ask the Home Secretary to raise the threat level - these things tend to come in waves. In the meantime I want every source and every other tree you can think of shaken until we know whether this was a once-off or the start of something bigger."  
He strode off towards his office.

He was on the phone to Towers when Calum knocked against his glass wall and beckoned.  
"I'll have to call you back," he said and promptly hung up.  
Erin and Dimitri had already gathered around Calum, who looked up as Harry approached.  
"We have a martyrdom video. I pulled it from the web as soon as I found it."  
He clicked 'Play' and the man from the cctv footage appeared, standing before a black flag with white writing on it.  
"That's an Al-Shabaab flag," Harry commented.  
"We've suspected for some time that an Al-Shabaab cell may be operating among the émigré community in Tottenham," Erin said, and studied the man's earnest face.  
"Good looking," she remarked.  
"Not any more," Calum interjected just as the man began to speak in Arabic.  
Harry half expected Ruth to appear at his elbow to translate, but of course she was no longer a member of his team. They still felt her absence in times like these, and Harry in particular dearly missed her uncanny ability to anticipate what he needed and to provide it before he even had to ask.  
"Get the translator onto it, Calum," he snapped and stalked back to his office.  
"What's his problem?" the techie asked.  
"Could have something to do with the fact that none of us speak Arabic," Erin said drily.  
Calum snorted. "Or the fact that none of us are a tiny former analyst called Ruth, more likely."

- 0 –

_Upminster, London  
BNP Headquarters_

Daniel Simms sat in front of the television, a bottle of whisky at his elbow. He sneered as the young female reporter breathlessly informed the viewers that an eyewitness had said that the suicide bomber had 'appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent'.  
"Of course he was a bloody Arab," he shouted, shaking his head at her lame attempt at political correctness.  
One of his men stuck his head around the door. "Dan, you have to come and see this."  
He followed the man to the outer office, where a bunch of party members were clustered around one of the computers.  
"We received this a few moments ago – from a 'concerned citizen'."  
It was video footage of the bombing. The young man's face was clearly visible as he crossed the street and glanced towards the camera. Moments later there was a bright flash, followed by distressing images of the debris-strewn street, filled with dead and injured people. It was followed by the bomber's martyrdom video, on which English subtitles had helpfully been provided. He spouted the usual story about the depravity of the west and how they were defiling his religion and countries in the Middle East with their presence in these holy places. The last frame was a black screen with the following in white print:  
_Are we going to allow these foreigners to continue killing our people, or is your party man enough to do something about it? If you are, call this number: 07958 348613_

Dan stared at the challenge as a muscle in his jaw twitched. The party's support had dwindled in recent times, but this event could be the catalyst to turn around that trend. And he, Dan Simms, would be the man to step forward and take the lead.  
"Someone hand me a phone," he said.

- 0 –

_Home Office, London_

Ruth was across the room as Towers' secretary came in and whispered something in his ear. It could only have to do with the bombing and she fervently hoped to be included in any discussion. She waited for him to catch her eye and summon her, but he turned and left without looking in her direction. It was a huge disappointment, and it was with a decided lack of enthusiasm that she turned back to her social duties.

- 0 –

Harry stood as the Home Secretary walked in.  
"Where's Ruth?" he asked, surprised when no one followed Towers into the office.  
"She has other duties to fulfil," Towers said dismissively. "So what have we got?"  
Harry paused. "We might need her on this," he persisted.  
Towers frowned, irritated. "I will use _my_ staff as I see fit," he stated pointedly. "I don't tell you how to do your job. Now what have we got?" he asked, ignoring Harry's incredulously raised eyebrow.  
Harry updated him on developments and ended by suggesting, "I advise that we raise the threat level, Home Secretary."  
Towers leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully.  
"Are we sure this man is a member of Al Shabaab?"  
"The martyrdom video is compelling evidence – few men would be willing to kill themselves for a cause they don't believe in."  
"Eh, but still. I'd like to see definitive evidence."  
Harry curbed his impatience. "It's not as though terrorist organisations keep a membership list handy for us to peruse."  
Towers rolled his eyes. "Don't be a smart-arse, Harry. I don't think it an unreasonable request to ask for more evidence that we are, in fact, facing the beginning of a sustained terror campaign by this organisation, rather than the vengeance of a lone wolf, before I raise the threat level. Do I take it that you don't have a source inside this organisation?"  
This time Harry didn't bother to hide his disdain. "We do not have a source inside Al Shabaab, Home Secretary, because you specifically ordered me 'not to spy on the immigrant communities'."  
Towers pretended not to hear. "It's important that we don't allow these terrorists to foment fear any more than necessary, Harry-"  
"It's also important that we protect our citizens, which we will be better able to do with a higher threat level," Harry interrupted.  
Towers gave him a long-suffering look and sighed deeply after a few seconds.  
"The PM won't authorise it, all right? He's keen to show the world that we are no longer the Americans' lackey, and that means having a less draconian approach in dealing with terrorism."  
Harry rubbed a hand wearily across his eyes and stood. "If he's so keen to loosen us from Uncle Sam's skirts, why doesn't he withdraw our troops from Afghanistan?" he said tartly. As he walked out he added, "Don't waste Ruth's talents, Home Secretary. You will regret it. And so, probably, will the country."  
Towers watched him close the door firmly behind him. He stared at it bleakly for a few moments.  
"Oh, bother," he grumbled, and punched the intercom button to his secretary viciously.  
"Will you ask Ruth Evershed to come to my office?" he requested, and leaned back, deep in thought.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

Harry got back to the office in a foul mood. He beckoned to Erin and explained as he hung up his coat, "The Home Secretary won't ask the PM to increase the threat level. Apparently not doing so demonstrates a newfound independence from the Americans. Don't ask me how."  
"Well, this might change his mind," Erin said, and turned on the monitor on his desk. Sky News was on, and a man they were all too familiar with filled the screen. Daniel Simms stared confidently into the camera as he spoke.  
"The BNP has evidence that this attack was perpetrated by an Arab man. This man, an immigrant, has lived among us, taken a job that one of our young men could have filled, sponged on our health care and enjoyed our standard of living, even whilst he despised us and our way of life. How many more of them are lurking amongst us – people who will turn on us at the first opportunity? Well I say: no more. We will not stand for this. And if the government is too pathetic to deal with these people, we will do it ourselves – we will take back our country!"  
Harry punched the off button and threw the remote onto his desk with a clatter.  
"That's all we bloody need."

- 0 –

_Two hours later_

The two teenagers walked out of their madras, laughing about a joke. They turned down the street and strolled towards the local grocery store. They did not see the group of men that tracked their progress from across the street. A man in a dark jacket stopped them and politely asked for directions to the nearest ATM, which they helpfully provided. They did hear the sound of running feet behind them, but by then it was too late.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_Same night  
Home Office, London_

"Ruth. Have a seat."  
Towers watched her as she moved to a chair and sat down. He mulled over what he was about to say as he toyed with his pen. She tilted her head and looked at him curiously, and he sighed.  
"There's something we need to clear up," he began, somewhat reluctantly. "I know that you and Harry are living together."  
Ruth frowned; they hadn't made a secret of it, so why would he choose to bring it up now?  
"It's not a secret," she responded carefully.  
"No. Quite. I should have had this conversation with you as soon as I realised, I suppose. But after his daughter's death, I was frankly so relieved to have Harry back on somewhat of an even emotional keel that I let it slide."  
She said nothing, waiting apprehensively for him to get to the point.  
"I am concerned, though, that your closeness to Harry may cloud your judgement."  
Ruth opened her mouth to interrupt, affronted at the implication that she would be anything other than professional, but Towers held up his hand to stall her protest.  
"Hear me out," he said. "There will be times when Harry and I differ on the way forward. When that happens, I need to be sure that you will approach the issue with your impressive intellect rather than your heart."  
"I will," she said immediately, but Towers was not so easily appeased.  
"Even if it causes tension between you two? Harry does not take kindly to being told he's wrong, as you well know."  
Ruth smiled slightly. "Maybe not, but he would want me to advise you on what's best for the country." She looked him in the eye unwaveringly and added, "You have nothing to worry about."  
Towers eyed her speculatively for a few moments, before he let it go.  
"Good. We have a situation on which I would like to hear your opinion."

- 0 –

_The Grid_

They were gathered in the conference room, watching the cctv footage of the attack on the two Muslim teenagers.  
"The attackers wore ski masks," Calum said, "but these Neanderthals aren't the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree. I traced back their movements and got a nice, clear shot of them getting out of their car."  
The number plate was plainly visible.  
"Get the information to the Police and have them picked up," Harry said, grimly staring at the images of the two bloodied youngsters lying on the pavement.  
"What's their condition?" He nodded towards the screen.  
"One is in a stable condition," Erin said. "The other is still in emergency surgery – one of his ribs punctured his lung, and he has swelling on the brain. It's not looking good." She paused before adding, "We're getting reports of more groups like these roaming the streets, looking for trouble."  
Harry grimaced. "This is a result of Daniel Simms fomenting racial tensions at every opportunity. Erin, Dimitri, pay him a visit and get him to shut up, or we will arrest him under the Terrorism Act."  
"He's going to scream about his rights and freedom of speech," Dimitri pointed out.  
"I don't care. Let him bleat about his rights until he's blue in the face. Tonight the only right I care about is people's right to stay alive."

He strode back to his office and snatched up the phone. Towers answered on the first ring.  
"Harry."  
"The game has changed," Harry said without preamble, and briefly explained about the BNP's involvement. "I think we should convene Cobra." He was braced for an argument, but to his surprise Towers immediately agreed.  
"One hour," he told Harry. "I'll call the PM."  
"…Good," Harry responded, and Ruth could hear the surprise in his voice. She smothered a smile as Towers gave her a knowing look.  
"I want you there as well," he informed her, and she nodded. The butterflies gathered in her stomach at the thought that she was about to attend a meeting of the most powerful people in the country.

- 0 –

_Barkham Mosque, Tottenham_

The Imam ran his eye over the gathering expertly, gauging each man's emotional state and resolve. These were the men of the mosque he trusted most, and they would be his messengers to the other mosques in the area.  
"I have an important message I wish to impart to all corners of our community. You must be my messengers. As from tonight, you must think yourself in enemy territory. There are groups of Englishmen roaming the streets, and they will kill you if they find you on your own. This is true for every Muslim in this city. My question is this: Must we sit back and take this? I say no. We must let them know that we will not be intimidated. This is what I want you to take to the community – we now have the means to fight back. Every man who feels it his duty to stand up for his faith and his community should come here and I will enable him."  
He opened the crate next to him and beckoned the men closer. "Take one, and go. Spread the word."  
He stood back and watched as the men each took one of the hand guns and moved away. If Daniel Simms and his ilk thought they could make the streets of London run red with the blood of his people, they would have to think again.  
"Let us see whether they have the stomach to fight on if it is their own kind's blood filling the streets," he told his second in command.  
The man nodded, careful to hide his troubled thoughts.

- 0 –

_Cobra meeting, Whitehall_

Ruth watched as the men and women that held the security of the nation in their hands filtered into the room. Towers, the PM and the Deputy PM was deep in conversation, whilst the Generals from the various Armed Forces huddled in another group. There were representatives from the Police, MI6 and the Foreign Office as well. Their aides took their seats on the chairs against the wall, each behind their master's place. Harry strode in, alone, and moved straight to his seat. She marvelled at his assured demeanour. In the middle of this powerful group of people, he was totally at home. It shouldn't surprise her, but she had never before seen him operate in this milieu, and she felt a rush of admiration for him. He caught Towers' eye and nodded once. As he seated himself he glanced in her direction and she saw surprise flicker across his face, before his mouth quirked and his eyes softened momentarily.  
"Let's get started," Towers called, and everyone took their seats.  
He nodded at Harry, who provided the gathering with the salient facts. He showed them footage of the suicide bombing, the martyrdom video, the BNP leader's appearance on television and the attack on the Muslim teenagers.

All around the table expressions were grim. The PM spoke first.  
"Are we on the brink of a sustained terror campaign?"  
Harry opened his mouth but Towers pre-empted him. "It is a distinct possibility. I am told these things tend to occur in bursts – it is seldom an isolated occurrence. Look at the Underground bombings and 9/11 for instance."  
Harry quirked an eyebrow and his gaze flickered in Ruth's direction. He added, "Yes, that's correct. If this man was a member of Al Shabaab – and preliminary investigations point in that direction – then there is a distinct possibility that there will be more attacks. And that," he pointed at the image of the bloodied Muslim teenagers, "will make it even more of a possibility. We've already seen a significant spike in activity on militant Islamist internet sites. We need to increase the threat level to Critical in order to give the Security Services the tools to deal with this situation effectively."  
A murmur went around the table and the majority of heads nodded in agreement. One of the Generals announced, "The Armed Forces are ready to provide whatever support is necessary, Prime Minister."  
The PM blanched. "The last thing I want is images of troops on the streets of London beamed around the world."  
Ruth scribbled something on a piece of paper and unobtrusively handed it to the Home Secretary. He scanned it whilst the General pressed his case, and glanced at Harry over his spectacles. When the General took a breath, he intervened.  
"How about a localised curfew? It seems to me that the trouble is at this stage contained to the areas with large immigrant communities. If we impose curfews in these areas, surely the police will be able to enforce it, and we won't need troops on the streets."  
He looked questioningly at the Police Commissioner, who nodded slowly. "We'll be able to handle it," he confirmed. "We can draft in members from other areas of the country to strengthen the numbers in the affected localities."  
All eyes turned to the PM, who still seemed unhappy. "Would it not create a bad impression if we focus on only those areas? We'll get a reputation for intolerance, surely."  
"Would you rather that we get a reputation for allowing racist white men to run free and assault anyone who looks different?" Harry queried bluntly.  
An uncomfortable silence followed whilst the Prime Minister and Harry stared at each other, and Towers gave Harry a long-suffering glare.  
"The localised curfew is a good option, Prime Minister," he said soothingly.  
Eventually the PM said reluctantly, "All right. Let's raise the threat level and enforce curfews in the relevant districts. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."

The room emptied whilst Harry conferred with the Police Commissioner.  
"Flood these areas with Police, Brian," Harry instructed. "But make sure your men pay equal attention to locals and immigrants. They will have wide powers to stop and search anyone, but I don't want to hear that they're only focussing on the immigrants."  
The Police Commissioner concurred and left. Harry turned around to find Ruth still lurking just inside the door. He walked over to her. "The localised curfew was a good compromise. I should have thought of it myself."  
She squeezed his hand. "You have other things to worry about. You need to shut up Simms."  
"We're working on it."  
"Perhaps a spot of blackmail-"  
"Ruth," he chided gently, a small smile on his lips.  
"Sorry."  
He observed her keenly. "You miss it, don't you? Being on the Grid."  
Sometimes he could be annoyingly perceptive.  
She looked at their joint hands before smiling at him. "On occasion. But don't tell Towers - it'll hurt his feelings."  
He laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I won't. I have to go. Suicide bombers to stop, racists to blackmail and so forth."  
"Hmm. A spook's work is never done," she murmured and kissed his cheek, before they went in their different directions.

- 0 –

_BNP Headquarters_

Dan Simms and two other men left the building, and the others waited on the pavement while he locked the door behind him. Erin and Dimitri watched from a car across the street. The three men conferred briefly before they dispersed in different directions. Simms got into a silver BMW sedan and Dimitri waited until he had turned the corner before following. The tracker he had earlier planted on Simms' car beeped steadily and they kept their distance until he reached a quiet stretch of road.  
"Let's do it," Erin instructed.  
Dimitri sped up and pulled right up to the bumper of the BMW, his lights on bright. The BMW increased speed but Dimitri stayed with it, then sped past and swung in front of it, forcing Simms to stop. He jumped out and moved to the driver's window, torch in hand, and unceremoniously shone its beam into Simms' eyes.  
"Police. Get out of the car, sir." He flashed a police badge briefly and Simms obeyed warily.  
"What's the problem?"  
"Your left taillight is broken," Dimitri informed him.  
"Like hell it is!"  
There was the sound of breaking glass and Erin appeared from the back of the car.  
"I'm afraid it is," Dimitri said cheerfully. "There's a hefty fine for that."  
Simms stared at him angrily. "What the fuck is this?"  
Erin came to a stop next to Dimitri. "You are fomenting racial tensions with your hate speech, and already some of your supporters have attacked two innocent boys. One of them might die."  
"_Innocent_?" Simms sneered. "Tell that to the families of the people who died in that bomb attack. And last time I checked, this was still a free country. I can say what I want."  
"Yes, but you are not allowed to encourage people to take the law into their own hands."  
"Well it's not like you lot are any good at protecting us. You did a grand job stopping that bomb attack. Maybe you should spend less time threatening upstanding citizens like myself, and more on getting rid of the vermin that are swarming all over us in ever increasing numbers!"  
Erin stepped forward. "Rein your supporters in, Mr Simms, or a broken taillight will be the least of your worries. And that's not a threat – it's a statement of fact."

They got back into their car and drove off.  
"What do you think?" Erin asked.  
Dimitri watched the BNP leader get smaller in the rearview mirror. "I don't think intimidation is going to work on him. He has the look of a zealot."  
"Yea." Erin picked up her mobile. "Calum, I want you to pull Simms' life apart. We need something to work with."  
She turned to Dimitri. "Let's get back to the Grid."

The next two days passed in a blur of activity. Sporadic incidents of violence broke out between gangs of BNP members and immigrants, but the curfew ensured that the police were able to contain it. During one of these attacks, the victim pulled out a gun and shot one of the attackers, and there were increasing reports of armed men protecting the mosques. Simms continued to ride the wave of anti-immigrant sentiment and boasted that his party's membership was growing rapidly. To make matters worse, a senior Imam in the Tottenham area began to appear on television, threatening acts of retribution for every attack on one of his people. Tensions grew to breaking point, and Harry stood in his office and cast a gloomy eye over his shattered team. Two couches had been placed in a quiet corner and people snatched a few hours' sleep on them when they could, which wasn't often enough. His resources were stretched to breaking point, and more than ever he was aware that his team had been whittled down to bare bones by circumstance and budget constraints. He sighed and turned back to his desk to once again pore over his budget, trying to find funds for a few extra hands.

At Dimitri's knock an hour later he lifted his head gratefully. The numbers had begun to swim across the page and his eyes burnt from fatigue. Dimitri didn't look much better; he had a few days' stubble and there were dark patches under his eyes.  
"Two things," he said tersely. "I may have found a source in the BNP. I'm going to meet him tomorrow morning. Gerry Simms."  
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "The leader's younger brother?"  
"Yep. Young Gerry is about to become disillusioned with his racist big brother."  
"How so? He idolises Dan."  
Dimitri smiled grimly. "Gerry fell in love with a black girl a few months ago. She worked with him."  
"Worked?"  
"Dan found out and threw all his toys out of the cot. Threatened to have Gerry kicked out of the family and disowned. The girl was harassed, and when she refused to be intimidated, she was attacked one night whilst walking home and brutally raped and beaten. She's in a coma. We'll make sure he knows Dan was behind the attack, even if we have to manipulate the evidence to do so."  
Harry's mouth set in a grim line. "Nothing would give me more pleasure than ruining that odious bastard. All right, see if you can hook Gerry. But tread lightly; we don't want him running to big brother instead. If it becomes known that we are spying on a legitimate political party it'll kick up a hornet's nest. What's the second thing?"  
Dimitri pulled out some cctv stills. "We have identified a number of Russian mafia goons hanging around Tottenham. We haven't been able to ascertain what they're up to yet."  
His boss' face clouded, and for a moment pain flashed deep in his eyes. Dimitri pretended not to notice.  
"Not the bloody Russians," Harry said with undisguised hatred, the memory of his dead daughter rearing up briefly.  
"More worryingly, we also saw this man come through Heathrow." Dimitri laid another photo on the desk, and Harry picked it up and studied it.  
"Leonid Kaganovich," he said with evident distaste. "What's a _vor v zakone_ of a prominent Russian mafia group doing here?"  
Dimitri shrugged his shoulders, too tired to speculate.  
Harry thought about it. "We can't afford to spare any resources to look into that now. Tell Calum to log their comings and goings, and leave it at that for the time being."  
Dimitri nodded and walked to the door.  
"Dimitri. Good work. I want you to get some sleep before that meeting tomorrow. You need to be sharp."  
The younger officer opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "That's an order."

Once he was alone, he pinched his nose and rubbed his eyes in an effort to relieve the strain, before bending resolutely to his task once more.

- 0 –

_Early next morning  
Harry's house_

The alarm pulled Ruth violently out of a rather pleasant dream and she stuck out a hand blindly to turn it off, refusing to open her eyes just yet. It felt as though she had only been asleep for five minutes, when in fact she'd had almost four hours – the most she'd had in the last few days. Her nose crinkled as she became aware of the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and beneath that, the more subtle smell of soap and aftershave. Harry. Her eyes flew open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her.  
"Harry," she mumbled and sat up.  
He smiled and held out a mug to her. "Morning."  
"When did you get here?" she asked as she took the proffered coffee.  
"Half an hour ago. I needed a decent shower and shave – I have to get back."  
He reached out a hand and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as he answered her unspoken question. "I didn't wake you because I know you haven't had much sleep the last few days."  
"You've had even less," she countered, observing the deep lines of fatigue etched into his face. Her eyes roamed over the rest of him and found him impeccably groomed in a freshly ironed, crisp white shirt and neatly knotted tie, and sighed. Evidently he wasn't staying.  
"We've barely seen each other the last few days." It was an observation, not a complaint, and his hand settled against her cheek in response.  
"We'll make up for it when time allows." His voice was low, smooth and intimate, and sent a quiver straight to her core.  
"I like the sound of that," she said, and he leaned forward and kissed her. It started out chastely, but soon evolved into a passionate clinch that lasted some minutes. His newly shaven cheeks were incredibly smooth under her fingers. Ruth eventually pushed him away gently.  
"Oh, I've wrinkled your shirt," she noted, smoothing her hands over his chest.  
He smirked. "It'll serve as an incentive to make some time soon," he murmured, and pecked her on the lips one more time.  
"I have to meet with Towers this morning, so I'll see you later."  
She watched him walk from the room with some regret and heaved her weary body out of bed.

- 0 –

Harry rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He needed to take every opportunity to get some rest, and these normally irritating drives through the London traffic afforded a chance to switch off for a few minutes. The driver would wake him when they reached Thames House. He had just drifted off when his mobile rang, and he fished it out of his pocket with a muttered curse. It was Ruth, though, and his annoyance dissipated immediately.  
"Ruth," he said, giving her name that intimate lilt that he knew she loved.  
"Harry," she responded in a tight, carefully controlled voice, and icy fingers danced down his spine. He sat up.  
"What's wrong?"  
"You need to come home. Right now."  
The icy fingers clasped around his heart and squeezed. He covered the phone and ordered the driver to turn around.  
"I'm on my way," he said, infusing his voice with calm assurance. "Can you tell me what's going on? Is someone threatening you?"  
"Yes, it's all right," she informed him, but she sounded anything but. "There's… someone here to see you."  
"Five minutes," he promised, and she disconnected.  
"I swear to God, if you don't step on it, I'll have your job," he snarled at the hapless driver before punching Erin's number into the phone.  
He didn't give her a chance to say anything. "I need backup at my house. Tell them to hold off, but if you don't hear from me in ten minutes, send in the cavalry."

It was the longest five minutes of his life. His only thought was, _please, not Ruth too_.

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

_Harry's house, London_

The car pulled up and Harry was out of it before it had properly come to a halt. He had to fight the urge to run full-tilt up the walk and burst in. Instead he advanced to the door at a brisk walk, his eyes sweeping over the neighbourhood, missing nothing. He saw the black sedan parked a few houses down, two burly men in the front seat. He also saw the third man standing by the window inside the sitting room, watching him. Harry walked through the door without hesitation. He never even considered doing anything else.  
"Ruth?"  
"In here." Her voice came from his left, and he walked into the dining room. His eyes found her, sitting at the table in her dressing gown, apparently unharmed, and relief flooded him. His gaze travelled to the man opposite her and he recognised the face immediately. The man's concentration was focussed on an apple in his hand, which he was meticulously peeling with a long, sharp stiletto switchblade. There was a quiet menace to the action. Harry looked back to Ruth.  
"You okay?"  
She nodded mutely.  
The man smiled, amused. "We are not animals, Mr Pearce."  
Harry bit back his kneejerk impulse to differ.  
"To what do I owe the dubious honour of a visit from a _vor v zakone_?" he asked instead, carefully casually.  
The man beamed. "Ah, good. You know who I am. That spares us from making awkward introductions." He cut a piece from the apple and popped it into his mouth, then said around it, "I have some information for you."  
Harry stared at Leonid Kaganovich impassively. "I'm all ears."  
Kaganovich looked between the man and woman, noting the way Harry's eyes stayed on the stiletto, whilst Ruth's gaze flitted between Harry and the Russian. The man who had lurked in the sitting room moved into the doorway behind Harry, a pistol dangling from his right hand. He stank of onions.  
"The trouble you are currently experiencing in Tottenham was engineered by the Russian mafia, on the orders of the FSB," Kaganovich said. "You can be sure that they received the order directly from our esteemed President."

Harry frowned and glanced at Ruth. Her head was tilted to the side as she absorbed the mafia man's words. "Really," Harry said. "To what end?"  
Kaganovich tapped his nose. "Money. Is it not always about money?"  
Harry watched him, his face giving nothing away. "Forgive me if I'm inclined to distrust the word of a Russian gangster," he said, unobtrusively glancing at the clock on the wall. _Three more minutes until back-up arrived_.  
Kaganovich leaned back in his chair and studied Harry. Eventually he shrugged and said, "I thought you might not believe me."  
He placed a briefcase on the table, opened it and turned it towards Harry. It was filled with documents. "See for yourself. Now, I show myself out before your friends arrive."  
Kaganovich took a big bite out of the apple and stood. He wiped the blade on the tablecloth and ambled past Harry, who spoke quietly as the _vor v zakone_ drew level with him.  
"You ever threaten my partner or come near my house again, and you'll find out what kind of man I can be."  
Kaganovich turned his head and the two men measured each other. "I know exactly what kind of man you are, Harry Pearce. I know what you did to Mikhail Levrov. I understand – blood for blood, no? We are not so different, you and I."

Neither Harry nor Ruth moved until they heard the door close behind the Russians, and then Harry pulled out his mobile and dialled. "Stand down, Erin. I'll explain later." He snapped the phone off and took a few long strides to Ruth's side. Wordlessly he pulled her to her feet and into his arms, crushing her to him as he buried his face in her hair. A slight tremor ran through her as she allowed herself to relax against him. She could feel the tension still coiled in him as she ran her hands over his back.  
"I'm all right," she said into his neck. "They didn't touch me. Just got a bit of a scare."  
In response he clutched her closer against him and took a deep breath, and she felt the muscles in his back relax slightly. In the silence she could hear his heart hammering against her ear, accompanied by the muted ticking of the clock. They didn't move until his pulse had slowed down significantly. He pulled back and led her into the sitting room with an arm around her shoulders. With his other hand he closed the briefcase and brought it with them.

They sat down on the sofa, shoulders pressed closely together, finding more comfort from the physical contact than they probably could through words. Eventually Harry stirred.  
"I'll make you some sweet tea." He made to get up but Ruth stopped him.  
"No, I don't need sweet tea. I have to finish getting ready for work."  
"You're still going in?" he queried incredulously. "You should take at least the morning off."  
She looked at him levelly. "Would you have?"  
He hesitated, caught unawares, before his mouth quirked. "Ah, but I'm a terrible role model, you know that. I've been told on more than one occasion that my method for coping with emotional trauma leaves much to be desired."  
Ruth laughed and leaned more heavily against him. "That's true. But I've been through much worse – this is a mere blip on the trauma scale. So," she squeezed his thigh and got up, "while I get ready, why don't you go through those documents?"  
He searched her face intently, seeking assurance that she really was all right, before he nodded and let her go.

- 0 –

When she got back, Harry stood at the window and stared out at the garden with a focussed intensity that immediately put her on her guard.  
He spoke without turning. "Kaganovich was telling the truth."  
"…What?" She moved to the documents on the table and began to page through them.  
Harry turned to watch her. "We are about to sign a multi-million pound deal with the Russians for the provision of riot gear and other police equipment. A deal which the government is now pushing through the tender and approval process with undue haste."  
Ruth frowned as she picked up the relevant documents. "It's a bit of a leap to extrapolate Russian involvement in the unrest from such a deal."  
"Is it?" Harry said icily, and when she looked at him she was taken aback by the anger burning in his eyes. She understood immediately what this was all about.  
"Harry… You can't jump to conclusions," she said cautiously. "We don't even know if these documents are real."  
He stepped forward and scooped the documents back into the briefcase with jerky movements. She touched his arm gently, and his eyes snapped to hers.  
"Will you at least let Calum check the authenticity of these documents?" she asked as calmly as she could muster.  
The muscles in his jaw bunched and he nodded once, stiffly. His eyes softened momentarily. "I have to go. There's a meeting I have to attend. You'll be all right?"  
"Yes."  
"I can drop you on the way," he offered, making a visible effort to focus on her rather than this latest development.  
Ruth shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm not quite ready to leave yet. You go."  
They looked at each other for a moment, before he leaned in and kissed her. "See you later then."  
She gave him five minutes before dashing out the door to the bus stop.

- 0 –

_J's Photo Lab, Tottenham_

"How are we doing, Cal?" Dimitri asked as he strolled along the pavement opposite the place where Gerry Simms worked.  
"Runners are in place and occupying the other clerks," Calum's voice said in his ear. "Simms seems to be wrapping up with his customer… Okay, you're up."  
Dimitri crossed the street and entered just as another man walked out. A woman and an old man occupied the attentions of the other two clerks behind the counter, and Dimitri walked up to Simms, who smiled.  
"Good morning, how can I help?"  
"Hi. I'd like to print the photos on this card," he responded and handed over a memory card.  
"Okay, let's see." Simms plugged the card into the computer and waited as the thumbnails of the images opened. At first glance they seemed to be images of a family Christmas dinner.  
"Do you want all of them printed, sir?"  
"No. Just the last four," Dimitri said as his eyes swept over the other people in the shop. No one paid any attention to them.  
Simms nodded and clicked open the first of the images the customer had indicated. It took him a moment to register its content, and the blood drained from his face.  
"What-"  
"Easy," Dimitri interrupted conversationally. "Keep your voice down. Look at the rest."  
Simms mechanically obeyed, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. On it a group of white men was shown attacking a young black woman. The last image showed Daniel Simms standing to the side, watching impassively.  
"Your brother was the one who ordered the attack on Layla, Gerry. He was there. If you want to know more meet me in an hour, this address." Dimitri pushed a piece of paper across the counter. "Now print the first four photos and hand them to me," he instructed. "Let's keep up the pretence."  
He watched Gerry carefully and let out a silent breath when the man obeyed. Dimitri paid for the photos, took back his memory card and walked out.  
"The hook is in," he reported to Calum.

- 0 –

_Thames House_

Ruth loitered across the street until she saw Harry and Erin drive off. Only then did she enter the building and make her way to the Grid. Calum and a few other people manned various terminals. He looked up as she stepped through the doors.  
"Ruth," he greeted, somewhat surprised. "You just missed Harry."  
"Oh." She stood thinking momentarily. "I wanted his input on some policy papers," she said slowly. "I'll just work on them for a bit in his office, and leave them for him to add his comments."  
"Right," Calum said distractedly, his attention focussed on the briefcase of documents beside him. It took him a few seconds to notice that she hadn't moved and he looked up, belatedly remembering his social skills. "Heard what happened this morning. You okay?"  
She nodded. "Fine. Are those the documents from Kaganovich?"  
"Yeah, Harry wants them authenticated."  
Relief flitted across her face and she gave a small smile. "Well, I'll get out of your way then."

She walked into Harry's office and stood just inside the door, absorbing it with a tug of the heart. This office was such an integral part of their history that she couldn't help this sentimental reaction whenever she entered it now. She shook it off and sat behind the desk, spreading some papers in front of her. Keeping an eye on Calum, she unobtrusively activated Harry's terminal and got to work.

- 0 –

_Abandoned industrial plot  
Outskirts of London_

They were parked in the lee of a warehouse from where they could observe the expanse of broken asphalt that covered the square between the derelict buildings. Weeds moved in the slight breeze that funnelled between the buildings and brought the smell of the river to them. The only sound was the tapping of Harry's fingers on the steering wheel and it grated on Erin's nerves.  
"You think he'll come?" she asked, more in the hope of stopping the endless tapping than of a real answer.  
"He'll come. Whether he'll stay is another matter," Harry responded and resumed the tapping. So much for that strategy.  
He stopped suddenly and moments later Erin saw it too. A lone man had emerged from one of the warehouses and stood looking at them warily. Harry started the car and rolled forward slowly. He stopped in the middle of the clearing.  
"Get out and keep your hands in sight," he instructed Erin before doing the same.  
The man studied them for long minutes before he moved towards them and got into the back of the Range Rover without a word. Harry nodded at Erin and they got back into the car. Harry's eyes met the man's in the mirror.  
"Thank you for agreeing to meet us."  
The gaze from the back was almost disconcertingly direct and searching. The man inclined his head towards Erin.  
"Who's she?"  
"She'll be your contact. When you wish to convey information to us, you contact her. Erin, meet Imran Tiwana."

Erin smiled at the man. He looked too young to be one of the most experienced undercover policemen of the Met.  
"I take it this is about the unrest in Tottenham and other areas."  
Harry nodded. "The situation is a powder keg, just waiting for the spark to send it all up in flames. We've managed to contain it until now, but I'm pessimistic about the long-term chances of success of our current strategy."  
Imran nodded. "I tend to agree. Especially with that idiot Simms blowing on the embers."  
Harry turned towards him. "Unfortunately he is not the only one. The Imam from the Barkham Mosque has proven to have quite a set of lungs as well. Hence this meeting."  
Imran smiled. "Are you telling me the mighty MI5 does not have any of its own sources in that community?"  
Harry ignored the jibe; now was not the time to explain the intricacies of political restraints.  
"Not in that particular community, no. And to insert a new face at this stage would invite suspicion. You have been in there for two years now, is it not?"  
"Yes. But my brief is to gather information about the smuggling of illegal immigrants into the country; I have not paid attention to anything else."  
"You did once," Harry said with a slight smile. "You were the one that first reported signs of Al Shabaab in Tottenham."  
"Yea, and I was told in no uncertain terms to cease gathering information about the organisation – that I was encroaching on MI5 territory. You were there, remember?" He looked pointedly at Harry.  
"Yes, I remember."  
"You never said a word, though. Were you just there to gloat?"  
"No. I was there to evaluate you." He looked levelly at the younger man. "With an eye to recruiting you to my Section."

Imran was stunned into silence. No matter what he thought of MI5, it was hard not to be flattered when a legend like Harry Pearce was interested in you.  
"Guess I didn't pass muster then – you never approached me."  
Harry smiled and looked away. "Actually, you did. I think it was when you told the JIC Chairman to his face that he was an idiot that you convinced me. But I was ordered to drop it. At that stage it was felt that the illegal immigrant problem was a more pressing issue than a non-existent terrorist organisation."  
Imran studied Harry; he couldn't tell whether the spook was merely buttering him up, or whether he was telling the truth. He seemed sincere, but the man was hard to read. But then, did it really matter one way or the other? The country was facing a crisis, and he had sworn to protect it and its citizens. There was only one answer he could give. "What do you need me to do?"  
Erin spoke for the first time. "We suspect that someone is providing the Imam with financial and other support. There are suddenly a lot of guns floating around that community."  
Imran looked thoughtful. "Yes, I've noticed that. The suicide bombing – was there a terrorist connection?"  
"He was a member of Al Shabaab," Harry said.  
The policeman grimaced. Though born in Britain, he was the son of Pakistani immigrants and a proud Muslim, and deeply regretted that the actions of such organisations had led to the demonisation of his faith.  
"So how will this work?" he asked.  
Erin handed him a document. "You will be seconded to our section for as long as necessary. Just sign that please. It means you will be eligible for an MI5 level salary for as long as you are seconded to us."  
"What's my brief?"  
"Find out who is financing the Imam and how the guns got into the country," Harry responded. "Secondary to that, any information you can gather about further planned attacks by Al Shabaab, but don't take unnecessary risks on that front."  
Harry turned around again. "And if you do well on this assignment, there will be an offer of a permanent move to my Section at the end of it."  
Imran signed.

- 0 –

_MI5 safe house, Tottenham_

The door opened as Gerry Simms raised his hand to knock, and Dimitri ushered him inside briskly. He led the young man through to the sitting room. Simms appeared dazed, and he fumbled around for something to say, a starting point to grasp hold of.  
"Who are you?" he finally settled on.  
Dimitri sat down opposite him and regarded him at length. "Is that really the first question you want to ask?"  
Gerry flared. "You come to my place of work and make false accusations against my brother – damn right that's what I want to know! You will regret this once I tell Dan."  
"Ah, so you willingly acknowledge that your big brother has a nasty violent streak."  
"I- what?"  
Dimitri spread prints of the images he had shown Gerry earlier on the table. Some of them were disturbingly graphic, and the girl's blood was a bright red against her dark clothes. He added a few more, which showed the men taking turns to rape her. Tears sprang to Gerry's eyes and he swept the images off the table.  
"Dan had nothing to do with that. He swore to me," he said thickly, stubbornly.  
Dimitri picked up the image where Dan could be seen standing to the side, watching the attack, and placed it back before Gerry gently.  
"He lied, Gerry." He said nothing more.  
Simms stared at the image, unable to tear his eyes away from his big brother. His face crumpled and he buried it in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.  
Dimitri waited until he had regained control before he sat forward. "Help us, Gerry. Help us to make him pay for what he'd done to her."  
Simms lifted red eyes to stare at the picture, and nodded.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

They were gathered in the meeting room. A quiet sense of accomplishment permeated it due to their success in securing assets in both camps. But still Harry was not satisfied. There was a restlessness to him as he turned to Calum.  
"What about those documents?"  
"They're authentic, as far as I can tell."  
Harry nodded with satisfaction. "So we can assume with a high degree of certainty that the Russians are fomenting the tensions in Tottenham."  
"Can we?" Erin asked, but he ignored her.  
"I want you to come up with a strategy to thwart the Russians' intentions," he ordered and stood up.  
"Where are you going?" Erin asked in bewilderment.  
"To see the Home Secretary. We need to cut off the beast's head as well."  
He collected the briefcase and strode off the Grid, a man on a mission.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_Home Office_

When Harry was shown into Towers' office, Ruth was seated in front of the Home Secretary's desk. She smiled fleetingly at him, but her whole demeanour was watchful and contained. He vaguely registered her uncharacteristic attitude but was too preoccupied to give it much thought. Instead he got straight to business by laying the documents he had received from Kaganovich on the desk one by one. Towers' eyes followed his every move but his face remained impassive. Ruth said nothing.  
Harry said, "The Russians are behind the unrest in Tottenham. They are stirring up trouble to force our hand on the Security Forces equipment procurement deal."  
"That's a serious allegation against our new ally. How did you come to this conclusion?" Towers asked.  
Harry pointed out the various documents as he spoke. "The Russians' initial tender was one of the highest received, and we were going to accept the tender of the Norwegians. Then the trouble in Tottenham started, and the Russians contacted us to indicate that they could provide the equipment immediately. Our government accepted and is about to sign it in two days' time."  
Towers leaned back and glanced at Ruth. "That's all true, but it's hardly evidence that the Russian government is behind the unrest. So, I ask again, what evidence do you have?"  
Harry hesitated. From the corner of his eye he was aware of Ruth's imploring look.  
"I was so informed by a source," he finally said.  
Once again the Home Secretary glanced at Ruth. "A reliable source?" he asked, returning his attention to Harry.  
"…I have no reason to doubt him."  
Ruth looked down at her hands.  
"Hmm. That's interesting," Towers responded, "because from where I'm sitting, the _vor v zakone_ of a Russian mafia group looks like a decidedly iffy source. I think you _want_ to believe him because of what happened to your daughter. What do you think, Ruth?"  
She jumped at the sound of her name. Even as she lifted her eyes to Towers, she was aware of how Harry's expression of surprise turned into an accusing glare that burned into the side of her face. Turning her head, her eyes found his unflinchingly.  
"Yes."  
The word fell dully upon the air between them, and she could almost see it cut through his skin and straight into his heart. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, but found none of the softness usually so abundant when he looked at her. His gaze had turned dark and flinty, devoid of all emotion other than wounded, burning anger.  
Towers, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents between the two people in front of him, continued. "That's settled then. The deal with the Russians will go ahead, and you will not make these accusations again unless you have sound proof. That's it for now, Harry."  
Harry stood and gathered the documents from the desk, his face pale with the effort to control his anger and humiliation. Without a word or another look at Ruth, he stalked out.

Towers watched him go. "For a moment there I worried that he'd throttle me," he joked, but when he looked at Ruth there was no amusement in her expression. Instead she seemed just as angry as Harry.  
"I don't appreciate what you just did," she said forcefully.  
Towers frowned. "What?"  
"Don't ever again use me to play your power games with Harry. There was no need to put me on the spot like that. You could have achieved the same result without doing so."  
"But-"  
"No, William! My job is to give you the information you need to make an informed decision. This I did despite knowing that it would clash with what Harry so desperately wants. I won't be a tool for you to hurt him unnecessarily. If you ever do that again, I walk."  
She put action to words and stormed out, leaving a pensive Towers behind.

- 0 –

_Barkham Mosque, Tottenham_

Imran slipped out during morning prayers and swiftly made his way to the Imam's office. He knew the way, having taken similar action on many previous occasions. This time, however, he had the technical back-up of MI5 and hoped to get into the big safe installed in the office. Some electronic gadget that would, according to the weird technical officer that had instructed him on its use, 'pop open that safe like a can of Coke' was secreted on his body, as well as a miniature camera and communications equipment. His shoeless feet made no sound on the linoleum floor in the corridor and he reached the office without encountering anyone. Prayers were taken seriously at this mosque, something he knew from past experience and counted on. He expertly picked the office door's lock and closed it quietly behind him. The Imam's desk was painfully neat; only a blotter and a phone sat on its polished surface. Imran ran an expert eye over the bookshelves. He had an astonishing ability to remember visual details and could tell in a glance that nothing had changed from his previous visit. Moving round the desk he rifled through the drawers, but found nothing of interest. The Spooks had wanted him to plant a listening device in the office but he had vetoed that idea; he knew that the office was swept regularly, which was in itself something that evoked suspicion. He moved onto the safe.

The device clamped onto its metal surface with a dull thud. Imran switched it on and watched, fascinated, as it ran through endless combinations of numbers. It found one, then two, and then the last few numbers of the combination in less than a minute. He punched it in and the safe was open before him. Inside were stacks of paper and he took them out, photographing as fast as he could. There was no time to peruse them in detail – he would leave that to the boffins at Thames House, but he noticed lists of names and financial statements among other things. Near the bottom he found a scrap of paper attached to the back of some or other policy. It had stuck to the paper due to the presence of a sticky substance which Imran thought looked like the flesh of a date. It read:  
_Nazeem  
3pm  
Pens_

He put everything back just as he'd found it and locked the safe and the office behind him. He waited outside the prayer room until they were done and blended into the throngs as they reclaimed their shoes, chatting gregariously with a few friends. No-one had noticed his absence. Once he was free, he mulled over the information on the note. When he'd initially become aware of the presence of Al Shabaab in the area, he'd heard the name 'Nazeem' mentioned a few times. He thought _Pens_ might be a reference to Penshurst St. It could of course be totally innocent and Nazeem might be a supplier of stationary for all he knew, but as he had a free hour he might as well make use of it. He called Erin.  
"Can you guys find out if any of the houses in Penshurst St are connected to a Nazeem?"  
Back on the Grid, Erin looked at Calum.  
"Can a sumo wrestler snatch candy from a baby?" the techie scoffed, his fingers already flying over the keyboard. Moments later he announced, "Got it. Number forty three has a Nazeem Faizal living there."  
"Have you found something?" Erin asked Imran.  
"Just playing a hunch, I'll let you know."

He had reached Penshurst St and disconnected the call, but kept the mobile to his ear as he strolled down the sidewalk, chatting idly about last night's football match between Spurs and Arsenal. Number forty three was quiet as he passed it. The drapes were drawn shut and it was impossible to see anything inside. As he passed the house next door, the family came out and got into their car. Once they had turned the corner Imran doubled back. A glance up and down the road confirmed that it was deserted and he hopped over the low front wall. He squeezed between the side of the house and the fence and into the backyard from where he peered into number forty three cautiously. He could see into the kitchen, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. As he watched a man came into view and emptied an ornate prayer bowl into the sink. There was a piece of electrical wire stuck to his sleeve, and Imran felt the first prickle of fear. He made his way back to the street and took up station behind a row of garbage cans, ignoring the putrid smell that emanated from them. He kept watch on the house through a gap and soon after a man came out and scanned the street. Apparently satisfied that all was well, he called something over his shoulder and two more men exited. One was the man that Imran had seen in the kitchen; the other was a black youth wearing a bulky sky-blue windbreaker. They got into a white Mondeo and when it pulled into the road, Imran noticed that it had no license plates.  
"Shit."

- 0 –

_The Grid_

When Harry got back the Grid was in the grip of barely controlled urgency. He pushed his anger about the meeting with Towers and Ruth to the back of his mind and approached Erin.  
"What's happened?"  
She briefed him as she shrugged on her jacket. "Imran thinks there may be about to be a second suicide bombing." She briefly explained about the note, Nazeem and the youth and pointed over Calum's shoulder. "We're tracking the vehicle through cctv and traffic cameras. Dimitri and I are on our way to intercept."  
"Go," Harry said and the two officers sprinted out whilst he called CO19 to provide them with back-up.  
Calum guided them in the direction the Mondeo was travelling. Once he lost the vehicle when it turned down a side street that was not covered by cameras, and for a tense two minutes it looked as though they might have been outsmarted. However, the car appeared again, now sporting four persons.  
"They picked someone up," Calum said unnecessarily and Harry glared at him. Eventually the Mondeo turned into High Road and stopped halfway down the block from a busy McDonalds.  
"Erin?" Harry asked.  
"We're here," she reported, and they saw the silver Audi park a few cars behind the Mondeo.  
"CO19 are three minutes out," Harry informed them. He got back on the line with the CO19 team leader and instructed him to get a marksman in an elevated position from where he could take down anyone approaching the McDonalds.

_Tottenham_

Dimitri surveyed their surroundings and announced, "I'm going for a walk."  
"Why?"  
"Gerry Simms said the BNP received video footage of the previous bombing, and that it had obviously been filmed from a car nearby. Harry, we may be able to catch two birds in one swoop."  
There was a moment's hesitation and then Harry's voice said, "Do it."  
Dimitri got out and walked down the street towards an ATM. He casually glanced into every vehicle he passed but saw nothing. When he got to the ATM he pretended to draw money and threw up his arms as if the machine was giving him trouble, and crossed the street.  
As he did so, the young man with the blue windbreaker got out of the Mondeo and it drove off.  
"Harry?" Erin asked anxiously.  
"Hold," he instructed. For a moment, to his irritation, he heard Ruth's cautionary voice in his head: _Let's not jump to conclusions_. "Keep track of that Mondeo," he told Calum before switching his attention back to the scene in front of the McDonalds.  
"Dimitri?"  
"Nothing yet."  
"Hurry it up. Erin, we try to hold off as long as possible to give Dimitri a chance to identify the watchers."  
"Got it." She got out of the car and moved closer to the youth. He stood across the street from the McDonalds and stared at it fixedly. She could see the sweat on his brow.  
"I'm going to try and talk him out of it," she said and took another step closer.  
"No!" The order was sharp and definite and enough to freeze her in place.  
"You are not to go near him, Erin. If you spook him the game is up. We'll also lose any chance of identifying the watchers. Do you want to alert them that we're onto them?"  
The youth suddenly came to life and began to cross the street.  
Harry's voice came clearly over the comms. "Everyone hold. Sniper stand by. Dimitri, any time now..."

Dimitri swore and broke into a jog. He kept one eye on the youth and the other on the cars in front of him. The blue jacket had just reached the sidewalk in front of the McDonalds when Dimitri saw a movement two cars ahead – an arm lifting a video camera and pointing it at the McDonalds.  
"Got them," he announced breathlessly.  
"Okay. Link up with the surveillance team in the van and follow them when they leave. Sniper, on my mark."  
All eyes switched back to the youth. He had reached the McDonalds just as a bunch of kids exited noisily, quaffing hamburgers and milkshakes. He stared at them and his hand lifted to the jacket.  
"Harry!" Erin said urgently, but he ignored her. The youth unzipped the jacket with a single movement and exposed the explosives underneath. The kids around him screamed and tried to escape in five different directions at once. It was pandemonium. The youth lifted his face to the sky, closed his eyes and reached for the wire.  
"Mark."  
A neat round hole appeared in his forehead and the force of the round flung him off his feet. Even before the lifeless body had settled on the ground, it was surrounded by CO19 and bomb disposal officers.  
Harry let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Erin, take control of the scene. And tell Imran good work next time you speak to him."  
He turned to Calum. "Let me know if the surveillance on the white Mondeo or the moviemakers throw up anything interesting."  
Calum nodded, and Harry moved to his office and sat down heavily, suddenly drained.

- 0 -

_Late evening  
Harry's house_

Ruth drifted through the house, absently picking up books and newspapers and organising them into neat piles. She had tried to call Harry a few times during the day but he hadn't answered, and she'd only later learnt about the drama that had played out in Tottenham. Erin had come to the Home Office to brief the Home Secretary and Ruth's heart had broken a little as she recognised it as a strategy from Harry to avoid her. She had eventually been ordered home by Towers around seven o'clock and found the house deserted, cold and dark. A part of her had irrationally hoped that he would be there but she wasn't really surprised to find the house empty. And now, hours later she still found herself unable to settle down to anything. A cold fear was growing in the pit of her stomach and she reluctantly allowed herself to acknowledge it – would the developments of the last few days finally prove that she and Harry was incapable of having a relationship whilst they both still worked? The thought scared her and drove her to the phone once more.

He answered tersely after a few rings. "Yes."  
Ruth closed her eyes, unaccountably nervous. "It's me."  
"Ruth." He did not caress her name like he usually did and it hurt more than she thought it would.  
"Are you... Are you coming home tonight?" she asked cautiously.  
"No. I still have some things to take care of."  
She sighed his name and he heard the emotion she was fighting to control.  
"Harry. Please. Please don't do this."  
"Do what, Ruth?"  
"Evade, avoid, run," she responded with sudden fire. "We agreed when we started-" She stopped and tried again. "We promised we would face problems; talk about things and not hide from them."  
He said nothing for a while, and she could hear him breathe as he struggled with his own emotions.  
"Lunch tomorrow," he finally said curtly. "The bench in St James's."  
He disconnected before she could respond.

_The Grid_

Harry put down the phone, the sweaty imprint of his hand the only sign of how hard he'd gripped the receiver. He stared into the middle distance as his mind filled with images of her, but he always came back to the meeting in Towers' office. A knock on the door interrupted his gloomy thoughts and he looked up to find Calum holding out a file to him.  
"I thought you might want hard copies of the information you accessed about Kaganovich."  
Harry frowned. "What information?"  
"You sent it to my terminal this morning," Calum said, looking at Harry worriedly. Was the old bloke losing it?  
"But I was out with Erin this morning," Harry reminded the techie.  
"Oh! That's right. It must be part of the stuff Ruth wanted to leave for you then. She must have sent it to me via your terminal."  
Harry sat up straighter, and asked dangerously calmly, "Ruth was in my office this morning, using my terminal?"  
"Yes," Calum said, some of the cockiness disappearing under Harry's growing ire.  
"Unsupervised?"  
"...Yes."  
"Even though she no longer works here?"  
"Er... Well you know, it's _Ruth_. She works for the Home Sec, and besides, you two, you know-"  
"Get out." His voice was flat and furious.  
"Right. 'Night Harry." Calum beat a hasty retreat.

Harry waited until the doors had closed behind Calum before he opened the file. Ruth probably did not want him to know that she had looked into Kaganovich but had not taken into account that Calum had the tact of a gnat most of the time. He perused the documents carefully, and when he put the last one down he sat motionless for a few seconds, before sweeping them all to the floor in one violent movement.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Next morning  
Home Office_

Towers swept into the offices, greeting staff as he passed. Ruth gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement in response and his pace slowed. He noted the shadows under her eyes and felt a pang of guilt.  
"Can I have a quick word?" he asked, and she followed him into his office.  
"About yesterday," he began. "I wanted to know whether I can truly count on your objectivity when Harry and I are at opposite ends of an issue, and I saw an opportunity to test that. It was the wrong way to go about it, and it won't happen again."  
Ruth searched his face at length before she said, "Good." She held out a document. "Your daily intelligence briefing."  
They settled down to discuss it, back to business as usual. Towers was somewhat taken aback by her ability to move past personal tensions with such alacrity, but secretly relieved. He couldn't help but wonder whether she had also honed this skill whilst working for Harry, but wisely refrained from asking.

- 0 –

_BNP office, Upminster_

Gerry was alone in the office. That wasn't surprising, given the early hour, and he'd counted on it to get access to the computers without anyone noticing. He put the hard drive copying device into the slot and watched as the bar slowly filled up. It felt interminable, but in reality it took no more than five minutes to download. It was at ninety percent when he heard the outer door open. Someone else was in early this morning. Gerry could feel sweat running down his spine and his hand shook. The bar turned green and he yanked the device out and stuffed it into his pocket, and hastily opened the Internet. At that moment Bulldog walked in. He was a big, well-muscled man beginning to run to fat, who liked to show off the huge swastika tattooed on his chest. The man scared Gerry, but he and Dan were close. Gerry did his best to smile and hoped that Bulldog wouldn't notice his shaking hands. Bulldog seemed surprised to see him.  
"Hi Gerry, what're you doing here so early?"  
"Having a look to see whether anyone has figured out what happened at the McDonalds yesterday. I don't buy the gang violence line the press is feeding us," Gerry responded, and cursed the slight shake in his voice. He glanced at his watch and stood. "Better get going or I'll be late for work."  
Bulldog nodded, but Gerry could feel his eyes following him all the way to the door. He had to force himself not to break into a run once he reached the street.

Gerry walked swiftly to the rendezvous and saw with relief that Dimitri was there, leaning casually against the back of the newspaper stand. Gerry rushed up to him, starting to babble as soon as he was in earshot.  
"I almost got caught-"  
"Shut up!" Dimitri ordered sharply and scanned the faces of the people in the vicinity. No one seemed to be paying them any attention and he relaxed slightly. When he looked back at his asset, Gerry had a stricken look.  
"Sorry, Gerry. But you have to stay calm. We can't draw any attention to ourselves. This is why I wanted to meet at the photo shop – you see people there all the time without it looking out of place."  
Gerry shook his head decisively. "No. I don't want you near my place of work again. I need that job."

Dimitri was worried. Gerry didn't seem to be holding up well under the stress and he was likely to make a mistake sooner or later, if he hadn't already. He took the device from Gerry and did his best to give him a pep talk. With a last few words of encouragement he walked off. Gerry took a deep breath and turned in the other direction. He rounded the corner and walked straight into a very solid chest.  
"Well well, Gerry," Bulldog said and grabbed him by the collar. "Who was that bloke?"  
Gerry's insides turned to jelly. "No one. Just an old mate."  
"An old mate, huh? And what did you give your old mate?"  
Fear struck Gerry dumb and he didn't respond. Bulldog bared his teeth at him and Gerry suddenly understood where the man's nickname had come from.  
"Come on, let's go see your big brother." The menace in his voice was unmistakable, and Gerry knew that the game was up.

- 0 –

_The Grid, meeting room_

Harry turned his head from side to side, trying to relieve the crick in his neck. He had spent an uncomfortable few hours on the sofa, and to top it all off he'd had to resort to a too brief shower in the duty room and the electric shaver he kept in his desk to make himself presentable. It was something he didn't enjoy and used only when necessary – it left his skin feeling dry and itchy all day.  
"The tracking of the people with the video camera has not yet produced definitive results," Erin was saying. "They haven't met with anyone else, so we don't know who they're working for. They're not on any of our databases either. But we did have some success with the Mondeo." She looked at Harry. "After dropping their bomber, they did the rounds, meeting with a number of people, including the Imam from the Markham mosque. We have everyone they met with under surveillance now, and will build up a picture of the whole Al Shabaab network in time."  
Harry nodded. "That's good. Anything worthwhile from the mosque documents?"  
It was Calum that responded. "Uh, yeah."  
He called up a financial statement on the screen. "A rather large payment was received from an off-shore account. In Cyprus."  
Harry pursed his lips. "Cyprus is a favoured destination for Russian mafia funds," he noted.  
Calum continued, "Once we knew what to look for we trawled through the financial statements of the BNP, and voila."  
The same account number was circled in red on the BNP statement, and Calum smiled triumphantly at the others.  
Harry once again nodded his approval; they finally had evidence that an unknown force was financing both groups. "Who does the account belong to?"  
The techie sobered. "Don't know. I haven't been able to get through the firewalls - it's one of the most sophisticated I've encountered. You'd need at least two, possibly three people to attack it simultaneously to have a chance. Perhaps if I could ask techies from other Sections-"  
"No," Harry countered swiftly. "You'll have to find another way."  
He stood and looked around the table. "Well done, everyone."

As they walked out, Dimitri turned to Erin. "I'm concerned about Gerry. I think he may be cracking under the strain. He's going to make a fatal mistake sooner or later."  
Erin frowned. "How long do you think he can last?"  
"No idea. But we should start to think about an exit strategy for him – if his brother finds out his life won't be worth two cents."  
"You really think Dan Simms will have his own brother killed?"  
Dimitri shrugged. "Can't say for sure, but it's a distinct possibility."  
Erin thought about it, and when she looked at Dimitri her eyes were troubled. "Keep him in the game for as long as you can. Do whatever it takes."  
"What about an exit strategy?" Dimitri asked, although he already suspected what the answer would be.  
"We simply don't have the resources at the moment, D. You know that. I'm sorry."  
He wasn't happy, but he knew she was right, and nodded reluctantly. Gerry Simms would have to fend for himself.

- 0 –

_St James's Park_

When Ruth approached the bench, Harry was already seated, staring pensively at the Foreign Office building. He heard her footsteps and stood, waiting for her to seat herself before he once again took his place. His face was impassive and he looked for all the world as though this was just a casual meeting. But she who knew him so well could see the signs of tension; the jaw muscle bunched beneath the skin and the hands clenched together tightly. The silence stretched between them; neither able to find the right words to break the ice. Harry didn't look at her and she knew it was up to her to make the first move.  
"It was not my intention to hurt you, Harry."  
His eyes turned to her then, and the weight of reproach in them made her flinch. "You went behind my back, Ruth."  
She dropped her gaze to her hands. "I thought it would be the best way."  
Reproach turned to incredulity. "Really. Do you mind explaining that to me, because I'm struggling to see how deceit between us is the best course of action," he said tetchily.  
Ruth took a steadying breath before she answered. She didn't want to rise to his anger, otherwise they would end up in a shouting match that would achieve nothing but further damage. "I have to advise the Home Secretary as to what I believe the best course of action for the country is. I think that you're jumping to conclusions about the Russians, and-" She broke off and looked away. "I was trying to do the right thing and spare your feelings at the same time. It was a mistake."  
Harry's eyes never left her as he absorbed what she was saying. "So… Instead of talking to me, you sneaked onto the Grid when I was not there and used our technology to gather information so that you could prove me wrong before running to Towers."  
Her head snapped to him and their eyes held, a tumult of emotion passing between them.  
"I didn't set out to prove you wrong," she said at length. "Believe me, I would have been ecstatic to find evidence that you are right. I wanted to make an informed decision, and I don't have the access at the Home Office to do so." As she gathered momentum, her own anger began to shine through. "You're the one who always says that the interests of the country should come before all else. You're being blinded by your anger and grief at Catherine's death, and-"  
"I think it's _you_ that's being blinded, Ruth," he interrupted. "You're so determined to always save me that you can't see the wood for the trees."

The words stunned Ruth into silence and she frowned, confused. "What? I don't…"  
He took a deep breath, turned to her and took her hand in his. When he spoke his voice no longer had the angry edge to it; instead he merely sounded weary. "You think I'm angry that you told Towers to do something different than I wanted. I'd like to think I'm not as small-minded as that. I'm angry because you went behind my back; not once, but twice. It's that deceit between us that I can't abide. As you rightly pointed out to me last night, we agreed to face any problems that might arise between us, and I couldn't understand why you didn't just confront me with your concerns."  
He paused and his eyes softened fractionally. "But last night when I worked through the information you found on Kaganovich, and read about his connections to Mikhael Levrov and his daughter's death, I realised that you were trying to protect me."  
Ruth let out a long breath and stared at their joined hands. Eventually she admitted, "I didn't want to be the one that raked open the wound of Catherine's death once again." She laughed bitterly. "Sometimes I think that's all we know how to do – try to protect each other."  
Her defeated tone made his heart ache. "Yes."  
His eyes followed a young couple strolling past, their arms around each other, and he envied the seemingly uncomplicated ease of their union. He was filled with a sudden intense yearning for the woman next to him, and he turned his head to study her beloved face, searching for something he couldn't name. Unwilling to give up at the first hurdle, he said, his voice imploring, "But we've also been good together these last few months, haven't we?"  
Her eyes lifted to his and she smiled softly. "Very good," she agreed, and he nodded, relieved. His thumb traced circles over the back of her hand and they both focussed on that touch, drawing comfort from it.  
He spoke again, and the strain in his voice told her how much it was costing him to say the words. "Catherine's death will always…" He cleared his throat and his eyes flooded with such pain that it brought tears to hers. "I don't think I'll ever get over it or stop blaming myself, and I need you to question my motives in situations like these. How can I resent you for it if you do?" He gave her a half-smile. "I depend on you to keep me honest. I always have. But next time you need to be frank with me."  
She smiled back. "I will," she promised solemnly, and he found what he'd been looking for in her determined expression and knew that they were all right, at least for now.

It was Ruth that brought them back to the matter at hand. "I should have told you that Kaganovich was one of Levrov's associates the moment I found out. It does put a different perspective on what he told you."  
He looked at her thoughtfully. "You think that's enough to discard what he told me?"  
She chose her words carefully. "I…think he wanted to give you just enough rope to hang yourself."  
"Or maybe, just like me, he wants to get revenge for his daughter's death," he said slowly.  
Ruth tilted her head. "How so?"  
"I got Calum to look into it further. She was killed by a rival Russian mafia group. That group has close ties to the FSB, and I think the Russian government is using them to do their dirty work in Tottenham. If Kaganovich succeeds in foiling this plot, the FSB will no doubt take a dim view of the rival group's failure to deliver. There's no telling what their reaction will be, but I think you can put money on it not being pleasant."  
Ruth didn't respond and he looked at her sharply. "You don't agree."  
"It's a stretch, Harry. There's no evidence for any of it."  
"So help me find it."  
She stared at him in disbelief. "You want me to help you prove your theory? Which I don't support?"  
"No," he said quickly. "I want you to help me find the truth. Whatever it may be."  
Unease flickered across her face. "If Towers finds out it could cost me my job."  
"He won't. Come to the Grid after nine tonight – I'll make sure that no-one knows." Harry paused, and then added, "There's something off about this whole thing. I can feel it. And I have to trust my instincts, otherwise I might as well resign right now."  
She looked at him with concern. "Normally your instincts are very good. But when it gets personal…"  
"Like with Elena?" he asked, knowing what she was loath to say.  
"Yes," she admitted softly.  
"This is different," he insisted. When she shook her head in exasperation, he said with emphasis, "It's different. When Kaganovich first approached me, I had no personal link to him. I had no idea then that he was an associate of Levrov's. Yes, I have a natural dislike of all things Russian, but contrary to popular belief I don't hold them all responsible for my daughter's death. And right from the start I could sense there is some grain of truth in what he said. If Kaganovich is telling the truth, we have to stop it. As a matter of principle I object to Britain falling into bed with a government that has such close links with the mafia."  
Ruth shifted gear. "Even if you're right, it won't be the first time we've turned a blind eye to unsavoury acts by our partners. We maintained links with questionable regimes for years to secure some or other much needed commodity."  
"Yes we did, and we do, but in this instance we are facing a crisis of _their_ making. They're destabilising us so they can take our money and probably saddle us with sub-standard goods. At the same time their mafia is gaining a foothold here and once they've inveigled themselves into the community, we'll have a devil of a time getting them out again. I can't see any political advantage for Britain in that – can you?"  
Ruth was silent for a long time as she thought about what he'd said. There was a strange kind of logic to it, and perhaps she owed him that much. She capitulated. "All right."

- 0 –

_Residential Estate in Upminster_

Dan climbed the stairs to the fifth floor flat. The lift was broken, like it always was, and the stairway stank of piss and stale food. What a fucking dump this place was. It was a melting pot of nationalities, languages and races, and it was a microcosmic example of everything that was wrong with this country. But today Dan did not ponder the vagaries of life on the Estate. He was troubled and his thoughts centred on his little brother. Could Gerry really have sold him out? He couldn't believe it – the kid had always swallowed everything Dan had fed him. Dan had thought that Gerry was committed to the BNP cause. Okay, he had fallen for the wiles of that black bitch, but Dan had soon divested his brother from any such ideas and had been convinced that Gerry had seen the error of his ways. Now he was no longer so sure. He reached the fifth floor and walked along to number fifty-two, where he knocked three times. The door opened immediately and he walked through to the sitting room, where Gerry was slumped on a high-backed chair.  
"Hello, little brother," he smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Gerry lifted fearful eyes to Dan, and for perhaps the first time saw him for what he really was – a mean, ruthless thug hiding behind a thin veneer of urbanity, and he shivered.  
"Have you been stupid, Gerry?" Dan asked, and the backhanded blow across the face threw Gerry clean off the chair.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

The moment Harry got back he called Calum into his office.  
The techie, thinking that he was about to be reprimanded, attempted to deflect it by immediately launching into an explanation as to how he might breach the firewall.  
"If I can set up three laptops with the necessary software, I could perhaps do it myself with a bit of help from Erin and Dimitri."  
"That won't be necessary," Harry said. "I want you to stay late tonight. I have organised two people to assist you, but I don't want anyone else to know about it. So, from nine o'clock onwards, I need you to manipulate the cctv in the building so that their presence will not be recorded."  
"Oh. Okay," Calum said slowly, wondering who the mysterious visitors would be.

- 0 –

_Markham Mosque, evening prayers_

Imran went through the prayers without paying much attention. He mouthed the words mechanically, but instead of getting the sense of peace he usually did from the prayers, he only felt a vague sense of unease. His mind kept going back to what had happened when the men had stood around outside the prayer room beforehand. The Imam's second in command had moved through the group, offering a quiet word here and there to specific men. He had eventually reached Imran and had murmured in his ear. "Come to the office after prayers. The Imam wants a word."  
Imran had nodded and had carefully watched which other men had been spoken to. It seemed unlikely that he had been found out, which was always the uppermost concern in an undercover agent's mind. Instead it was the community leaders amongst them that had been pinpointed, and Imran surmised that the Imam was about to announce the next step in his plan to fight the BNP.

As they rose at the end of prayers and filtered out, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once there, he sent Erin an SMS and activated the tiny listening device in the top of his pen, which he placed carefully into the pocket of his shirt. He was one of the last of the chosen to step into the office, where small, steaming cups of sweet tea and a plate of fresh dates were circulated.  
"Friends," the Imam said portentously, and the gathering quietened down.  
"We have received information that the BNP is planning a march tomorrow morning at eight. They intend to use this to incite the community against us and to spread their abominal hate speech. We must not let them go unchallenged, so I propose the following: We will have our own march, at the same time and place, and show them who really runs this area!"  
A cheer went up, in which Imran joined with false enthusiasm.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

Erin and Harry looked at each other with concern. Nothing good could come from these two groups holding simultaneous marches, that much was obvious. Harry rubbed his forehead wearily. "Meet with Imran, see if you can come up with anything to stop the Muslim march. Dimitri, contact your asset in the BNP and see if you can do the same."  
Dimitri nodded and made a call to Gerry. The young man took a long time to answer and Dimitri glanced at Erin worriedly. Just as he was about to hang up the call connected.  
"Hello?" Gerry's voice was somewhat muffled, and Dimitri had to strain to hear him.  
"I need to see you, tonight," the spook said immediately.  
There was a long silence, then Gerry said, "The newsstand, half an hour."  
In the dingy flat, Dan removed the phone from Gerry's ear and looked down into his brother's battered face. "Good boy."

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

_Tottenham, London_

Dimitri had an uncomfortable feeling about the situation as he drove to the meeting place. He analysed his short conversation with Gerry again and again, but couldn't find sufficient evidence that something was wrong. Besides, the reason for the meeting was too important, and he really had no choice – he had to take the chance. All the same he felt better for arranging with Erin that he would report in hourly. He parked around the corner and cautiously made his way towards the newsstand, every sense heightened. A prickle ran down the back of his neck and he was almost certain that he was being watched. He began to turn around, but he wasn't quick enough. The blow caught him just behind the left ear and the world exploded in bright colours before his eyes, before everything went dark.

- 0 -

_21:05  
The Grid_

Ruth took a taxi from the Home office, getting out two blocks from Thames House. She made her way to the side entrance and as she rounded the corner she saw Harry pacing to and fro on the pavement. His breath misted in the cold air as he rubbed his gloved hands together. He turned towards her as he heard her footsteps approach, pausing in the shadows between two street lamps. Only when she came to a stop right next to him was she able to see his small, relieved smile and she impulsively stood on tiptoe and kissed his cold cheek. Harry turned his head in response and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. The sound of a second set of footsteps broke them apart and they turned towards it, standing close together. The man passed through a pool of light and Ruth's face split into a broad smile at the sight of the familiar features.  
"Hello, Malcolm," Harry murmured beside her.

- 0 –

_Residential estate, Upminster_

Dimitri had no idea where he was. He came to slowly, and the first sensation that registered was a throbbing pain in his skull. It was swiftly followed by nausea and he could do nothing to stop himself from vomiting next to the chair he was bound to.  
"Aw, fuck," he heard an unfamiliar voice say, and forced his eyes open. When at last he was able to focus, he saw that he was in a small ill-lit room with five other men. One of them was his asset, similarly bound to the chair next to his. The room stank of sweat, cigarette smoke and now the added sour smell of vomit. He could also detect the metallic tang of blood, and a closer look at Gerry confirmed that it came from him. His face was a mask of contusions, cuts and what looked like cigarette burns. He was swaying on the chair; only the binds kept him upright, and Dimitri was momentarily paralysed by guilt. He had done this. But he soon remembered what was at stake and forced those thoughts out of his mind. He needed to focus on the situation at hand and try to find a way to get himself and his asset out of this precarious situation. But before he was able to properly organise his thoughts, a big man stepped towards him, his lips curled back in a snarl. He was bare-chested, and the swastika tattooed there was spattered with Gerry's blood. Daniel Simms came into view behind the big man's shoulder and studied Dimitri dispassionately.  
"Let's see if you have bigger balls than my little brother, Government Man," he needled, and nodded at Bulldog.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

Calum looked up as Harry came through the doors, eager to see who his boss had rustled up to help him. He wasn't at all surprised to see Ruth follow Harry in, but didn't recognise the other man.  
"This is Malcolm," Harry said without preamble, and Calum's eyebrows shot up.  
"As in Wynn Jones?" he asked eagerly.  
"Yes," Malcolm said, faintly bemused.  
Calum was as excited as Harry had ever seen him. "You created the back-door into the CIA mainframe – you're a legend round here," he exclaimed, pumping Malcolm's hand.  
Malcolm was surprised. "The back-door still works?"  
"Absolutely, we just have to do a bit of tweaking every time they upgrade their systems, but it's child's play after the groundwork you laid."  
Harry and Ruth shared an amused look as the two techies engaged in an animated technical discussion about said back-door. As soon as there was a gap in the conversation, Harry interceded briskly. "Malcolm, you'll help Calum to breach that firewall. Ruth is here to analyse the information we have, but she'll render any assistance you two might need. Understood?"  
Calum nodded and led Malcolm off to the network of laptops he had set up for the purpose. Harry steered Ruth to his office and installed her behind his desk with all the information Imran and Gerry had obtained. He settled in one of the visitors' chairs with his own paperwork, but found himself glancing over at her often. It was good to have her by his side on the Grid once again, even if it were for just one night. Ruth paged through the documentation from the mosque curiously and looked up at Harry.  
"You seem to have secured good access to the mosque."  
"Yes. We've seconded an undercover policeman to the Section, and he's proven to be a great success." He gave her a meaningful look and the light went up for Ruth.  
"Imran Tiwana?"  
Harry inclined his head fractionally. She had been the one to flag the policeman as a possible recruit a few years ago, and he reckoned she had a right to know that her hunch had proven correct.  
"I plan to make it permanent," he confided. "But he'll stay undercover until he has a good source network in place before I bring him in."  
Ruth nodded. "Sounds good."

They worked in silence for an hour or so. When Ruth next looked up, Harry's head was propped on his hand and his eyes were closed, and her heart melted at how exhausted he looked. The strength of her desire to walk around the desk and pull him into her embrace, to soothe his cares away, took her by surprise and gave her pause. Perhaps Harry had a point; perhaps her instinctive need to shelter him from hurt or harm was influencing her objectivity. Ruth took a deep breath and turned back to the start of the pile of documents to peruse it from a different perspective. She looked at his sleeping face one last time and resolved to take him away to the cottage for a few days as soon as the opportunity arose – Towers owed her one, and she could easily persuade him to give Harry a few days' rest.

The silence was shattered by the phone ringing and Harry jerked upright, instantly alert. Ruth handed it to him and he answered with a curt, "Yes."  
"Harry, it's Erin. Listen, has Dimitri checked in?"  
Harry frowned at the concern in her voice. "Hang on," he responded and heaved himself upright.  
"Calum!" he called from the door. "Has Dimitri checked in?"  
"Not yet."  
Harry picked up the phone with an uneasy feeling. "No he hasn't, Erin."  
He heard her take a deep breath before she rapidly explained about Dimitri's worries regarding Gerry. "Because of that we agreed that he would check in hourly." She added, "He's half an hour overdue."  
Harry closed his eyes briefly. "Go to the rendezvous, see if you can get an idea what happened."  
"I'm on my way," she said, and he could hear her relief at having something to do. He understood – he knew from personal experience that there was nothing worse than having to sit around idly and wait for word of a loved one.

Ruth's gaze was on him questioningly and he gave her the salient facts whilst they made their way out of the office. She stood beside him, deep in thought, as he instructed Calum to drop what he was doing and to track Dimitri's mobile.  
"According to his mobile he's still at the rendezvous location," Calum soon reported.  
"Patch me into Erin's comms," Harry ordered, and then said, "Erin?"  
"I'm at the location. There's no-one here," she reported, her voice tight.  
Harry exchanged a glance with Ruth.  
"Okay, I've found blood and his mobile, smashed to bits," she said seconds later.  
"Get back here," Harry ordered and turned to Calum. "Get a list of all properties owned by Daniel Simms or the BNP."  
"Chances are they'll take Dimitri to where they're holding Gerry," Ruth reasoned. "Can you cross-match the properties with the general area Gerry was in when he answered Dimitri's phone call earlier?"  
"Can do," Calum responded.  
"I'll trace the call, you do the list," Malcolm offered and they got to work whilst Harry hovered impatiently.  
"Ruth," he said, "get CO19 on the line in the meant-" He met her startled gaze and smiled sheepishly.  
"Apology. I momentarily forgot."  
He reached for the nearest phone but she stilled his hand. "I'll do it."  
They looked at each other and he nodded gratefully. She picked up the phone and dialled, and Harry stood motionless, taking in the effortless teamwork happening around him. A wistful smile settled on his lips as he realised how much he had missed this.  
Calum's voice cut through his musings. "Got it. Residential estate in Upminster. The BNP owns number 52 – they're actually claiming tax benefits on it; they've registered it as a haven for destitute party members."  
Harry huffed irritably at their audacity.  
"I'm not far from the estate," Erin stated. "Tell CO19 I'll meet them there."  
Harry nodded at Ruth, who conveyed the information, before he cautioned, "Keep your head, Erin."  
Now all they could do was wait.

- 0 –

_Residential estate, Upminster_

Dimitri rode the punches as best he could. He had lost count of how many the brute had aimed at him, and turned his head sideways to spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He would make sure to leave as much DNA as possible behind, in case he didn't leave this place alive. He heard Gerry moan pitifully next to him, and mumbled through swollen lips, "Chin up, Gerry."  
Bulldog growled and pulled back his arm for another blow, but Dan grabbed it and held him back.  
"Hold up," he commanded and eyed the spook speculatively. Dimitri squinted at him, and when he saw the triumphant smirk on Dan's face he realised that he had made a mistake – he had shown that he cared about his asset.  
The BNP leader turned away and rummaged in his briefcase, and when he walked back to them he was brandishing a gun. Dimitri's blood turned cold as he knew instinctively what was coming. Dan came to a standstill before the two bound men and very deliberately cocked the gun. Dimitri strained against the ropes but it was futile; there was nothing he could do.  
"You'll never get away with it," he rasped, his eyes fixed on Dan. "My people know where I am – they'll trace it back to you, and you'll spend the rest of your life in prison." He managed to sound a lot more confident than he felt, but Dan merely laughed.  
"We left your phone at the newsstand, G-man. They have no idea where you are. Now, confess that MI5 is conspiring to destroy my party, or I'll plaster Gerry's brains all over the wall."  
Gerry whimpered and started to babble incoherently, and Dimitri had to raise his voice to be heard above it. "For God's sake, he's your brother!"  
"My _brother_?" Dan hissed and grabbed Gerry by the hair. "I don't have a brother anymore. This traitor is _not_ my brother." He glared at Dimitri and pressed the gun between Gerry's eyes.  
"Confess, or I'll blow his brains out."  
Dimitri looked at Gerry, trying to impart some of his own strength and courage to the other man, and to convey his remorse at what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and said, "…No."  
The shot was deafening in the enclosed space, and Dimitri jerked his head away as he felt Gerry's blood spatter over him.

The shocked silence that followed was only punctured by Dan's heavy breathing, until one of the other men said shakily, "Jesus, Dan. What have you done?"  
Dan stared at his lifeless brother, unable to comprehend what he'd done, and the hand that held the gun began to shake uncontrollably. It was Bulldog that took control of the situation. "You need to get out of here. I'll take care of the spook and get rid of the bodies."  
When Dan didn't move, Bulldog shook him by the shoulder roughly. "Go! You have to mobilise people for that march tomorrow – I'll finish here and meet you in Bruce Castle Park for the start of the march."  
Dan finally came to life; his eyes turned to Bulldog and he nodded wordlessly before backing away, swiftly joined by the other men. The door closed behind them and Bulldog returned his attention to Dimitri. "You have balls, I'll give you that," he said admiringly, "but I have to kill you now all the same. Can't leave a witness like you around to ruin Dan, can we?"  
He pulled a piece of rope out of his pocket and slowly wound the ends around his hands, then snapped it taut.  
"Don't worry, it'll be quick," he soothed as he moved behind Dimitri and wrapped the rope around his neck, and began to tighten it.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

_Residential estate, Upminster_

Dimitri didn't try to struggle; all that would do was ensure that his air supply ran out quicker. He could feel the rope bite painfully into his neck as he fought to draw another breath. Just as his vision began to darken, he was vaguely aware of a crashing sound, followed by shouting, and then another shot. The rope loosened and oxygen flooded into his lungs, making him dizzy. He was disoriented by it all until he heard a familiar voice say, "Oh God, D…" and cool hands caressed his face. He was lowered to the ground and he opened his eyes to see her beautiful face hover above him, and he knew everything would be all right.

- 0 –

_The Grid_

They had listened to the assault on the flat in tense silence, which only relaxed when Erin reported in a shaky voice that Dimitri was okay. Harry breathed deeply and smiled as he looked over at Ruth, aware that it was due to her idea that they got to his officer in time.  
"Clever girl," he muttered proudly and pressed a kiss to her hair before taking himself back to his office. Malcolm watched the unguarded moment between them with interest, but made sure his attention was once again focussed on the screen in front of him by the time Ruth looked in his direction. He couldn't hide his delighted smile, however.

Ruth wandered over and peered over their shoulders. "How are you doing with that firewall?"  
Calum rubbed his eyes. "We managed to get through it, only to find that the money was paid into the Cyprus account from yet another account, also held in Cyprus. But now we're stuck on the password needed to get us into the particulars of the holder of the second account."  
"We have confirmed that the first account belongs to the Russian mafia though," Malcolm informed her.  
Ruth frowned. This piece of information fortified her growing conviction that Harry's instinct had been right - she'd heard rumours that Putin had secret bank accounts in Cyprus. But how to prove a link between the FSB and the Russian government by extension, and the mafia group active in Tottenham? She sat down and began to jot her thoughts on a pad.  
_Russian mafia linked to FSB linked to govt linked to Putin. Therefore money used by mafia should follow same link. So money comes from secret slush fund set up by Putin? Likely._  
She underlined the last word and chewed on the pen.  
_If money from Putin, password also Putin's. Something personal? Unlikely due to KGB background. Something professional? KGB… Secret police with roots in Stalin era. Putin known as hard man so probably idolises Stalin-_  
"Try Stalin's real name," she said suddenly.  
Calum looked up in surprise, wondering by what convoluted thought process she had ended up at Stalin. He shook his head. "It has to be alpha-numeric, Ruth."  
"Okay, try the name with his date of birth."  
They tried various combinations of _Ioseb Besarionis Jughashvili _and 18-12-1878, but to no avail.  
Ruth tapped the pen against the pad, convinced she was on the right track. Putin was proud of his KGB background and it was suspected that he had built up his connections with the mafia during his spell as a spy, so it had to have something to do with that. _And spies love codenames_, she suddenly thought.  
"Koba 18-12-1878," she exclaimed excitedly.  
Malcolm perked up. "Stalin's nickname! Of course." He typed it in and his finger hovered above the 'Enter' key for a moment before tapping it decisively. They held their collective breath as the machine processed the request, which seemed to take hours, but was in reality no longer than a few seconds. At last a block popped up, welcoming them into the database.  
"Yes!" Calum exclaimed and immediately started to copy all information available. "Ruth," he said warmly, "you put Hal 9000 to shame."  
Ruth smiled – that was high praise indeed from a science fiction geek. "Sometimes, Calum, all it takes is the human touch," she said before walking off to Harry's office.

She stood in the door, looking at him as he bent over his paperwork, a slight furrow of concentration on his brow. When he became aware of her presence and met her eyes she gave him a big smile. "We've got proof."  
"The Russians?" he asked, wanting to make sure.  
"The Russians, right back to Putin himself," she confirmed and he nodded. There was no self-congratulation in his demeanour, merely quiet determination.  
"I'll wake Towers and inform him," he said as he stood and walked towards her. "Will you help Calum to put together the documentation I need to convince him?"  
"Of course."  
"Thanks, Ruth. For everything. Once you're done, I want you to go home and to pretend that you were never here. Towers will never know, I give you my word."

- 0 –

_Early morning hours  
Home Secretary's house_

"Dear God," Towers said wearily as he put down the last of the documents Harry had brought, and glowered at the other man.  
"One of these days, Harry, you're going to wake me in the middle of the night to give me good news, or I might become tempted to simply shoot the messenger."  
Towers was swaddled in a fluffy blue bathrobe which made him look more like a worried father waiting for his teenage daughter to come home, than the man who had to make decisions that would impact on the country's international relations.  
Harry was unrepentant about being the harbinger of unwelcome news. "We cannot let them get away with this."  
Towers rolled his eyes. "Don't be naïve, Harry. Of course we're going to let them get away with it. We need Russia."  
Harry stared at him incredulously. "What for?"  
"To influence events in the Middle East, for one."  
"Oh please," Harry scoffed. "Now who's naïve? Putin won't lift a finger to help us in the Middle East. The first thing he did since coming back to power was to snub the G8 meeting. And Russia has been nothing but a stumbling block to any international attempts to intervene in Syria-"  
"All right! I don't need you to paint me a bloody picture!" the Home Secretary snapped irritably. "You really can be the most infuriating self-righteous pain in the arse, you know," he added grumpily.  
"Someone needs to be," Harry said obstinately. "There are certain principles we should not compromise on, and this is one of them."  
Towers held Harry's gaze for long seconds, before he sighed heavily.  
"I'll speak to the PM and put a stop to the signing of the deal on the equipment. More than that I can't promise."  
Harry nodded. "It's a start. If you'll excuse me, I still have a march to prevent."

- 0 –

_Flat above Markham Mosque_

A bleary-eyed and irate Imam yanked open his door and glowered at the unknown man who had banged on it incessantly.  
"Have you any idea what time it is?"  
The man shrugged and said, "When you've barely slept for almost three days because you are occupied with preventing BNP supporters and Muslims from turning the streets into a war zone, you tend to lose track of the time."  
The Imam stared at him. "Who are you?"  
"I work for Her Majesty's Government, and I'm here to tell you that it would be a mistake to go ahead with the march you're planning for this morning."  
The Imam was taken aback, and obviously somewhat rattled that the man knew about the march. He took refuge in anger. "I see. So you want us to sit back and let those racists – who started all this in the first place-"  
Harry cut him off. "I'm really not interested." He thrust an envelope at the Imam. "In there is evidence that the Russian mafia has been behind everything. Just as they provided you and the Al Shabaab cell you've been sheltering with funds and weapons, so they did for the BNP. Ask yourself whether you are comfortable being manipulated by murderers, thieves and smugglers to their own ends. If you are not, call off the march."  
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the Imam standing in the door, clutching the envelope and staring after him.

- 0 –

_07:30  
The Grid_

Erin had just returned from the hospital when she received a call from Imran.  
"Harry!" she yelled across the Grid, making her boss wince. He had developed a thumping headache and wished she wouldn't shout quite so loudly.  
"Yes, Erin."  
"Imran just reported that the Imam has called off the march."  
"Good, good." Harry rubbed his temples in an ineffectual attempt to alleviate the pain. "How are we doing at Bruce Castle Park?"  
"The police will pick up Simms as soon as he appears. Dimitri's there to help."  
Harry lifted his head. "Shouldn't he be in hospital?"  
"He wants to be there when Simms is arrested, so he discharged himself."  
"Did he," Harry said with a small smile, which he smothered at Erin's disapproving look.

- 0 –

_Home Office_

By the time Ruth arrived at her desk the Home Secretary had evidently been in the office for quite some time. He bore down on her before she had a chance to switch on her computer, and tossed a heap of documents on her desk. She recognised them from the night before.  
"Did you have anything to do with this?" he demanded brusquely.  
Ruth took her time, picking up the documents and flicking through them.  
"No," she lied artfully.  
Towers stared at her and she held his gaze unflinchingly, and saw the doubt flicker across his face.  
"You didn't help Harry gather this information?" he persisted, unwilling to let go of his foul mood so easily.  
"Harry's angry with me – you made sure of that," she retorted in lieu of a direct answer, and the ploy worked. He deflated visibly and sighed deeply.  
"Read through it and give me your opinion. And start to think about a strategy to protect our image whilst we continue to cooperate with the Russians."  
Her disapproving gaze burned into his back as he walked back to his office.

- 0 –

_07:50  
Bruce Castle Park_

Dimitri stood with a bunch of police officers and watched as the number of BNP supporters gathering for the march gradually swelled. He shook his head to himself, unable to believe that so many people would swallow the drivel that Daniel Simms was selling. It seemed that fear of the unknown was still a powerful motivator. A silver BMW with a broken left taillight pulled up at the gate and Dimitri nodded towards it.  
"That's him."  
They moved forward and as soon as Simms stepped out of the car, one of the policemen approached and held up his badge. "Daniel Simms, I'm arresting you on charges of kidnap, assault and murder of your brother, Gerry Simms," he said, and snapped the handcuffs on before anyone could react.  
Simms opened his mouth to protest, but Dimitri moved into his line of sight and the colour drained from the BNP leader's face. The spook's face was mottled with bruises and there was an angry red welt around his neck.  
"Prison should be an interesting experience for you, Dan," Dimitri taunted. "Lots of illegal immigrants in there to keep you company. I bet they'll be thrilled to see you."  
He watched in grim satisfaction as Simms was led away.

- 0 –

_Two hours later  
Home Office_

Ruth walked into Towers' office and laid a document on his desk. He grunted and reached for it, his eyes skimming the heading in a practised manner. They lifted to her face in surprise.  
"This is a strategy to disengage from cooperation with the Russians. That's not what I asked for, Ruth."  
"No," she said, not giving an inch. "But what we discussed a few days ago works both ways. You can't expect me to go against Harry when I think he's wrong, and not to do the same with you. In this case I think you're wrong. We should not ally ourselves with the type of people that are currently ruling Russia. As a matter of principle."  
Towers took a few seconds to absorb her words, and then he smiled ruefully. "I'm beginning to understand why Harry is so besotted with you," he said, and there was a hint of envy in his voice.  
Ruth dropped her gaze, slightly embarrassed by the personal turn in the conversation, before lifting it again resolutely.  
"About that," she said. "I have a favour to ask."

- 0 –

_Four hours later_

Ruth stepped out of the taxi outside the cemetery gate and walked slowly along the well-manicured path. When she had looked for Harry on the Grid earlier and Erin had informed her that he'd left some time ago without saying where he was going, she had known immediately where he would be. Her pace slowed as she approached the section where Harry's daughter was buried, and her eyes unerringly picked out the solitary figure that stood immobile, gloved hands clasped together in front of him. He stood with head bowed, and those who did not know him might be forgiven for thinking that he was praying. She stopped and just watched him, unwilling to intrude on such a private moment. She might share his bed, but she was well aware that there were some things a person had to work through by themselves. However, when she saw his shoulders start to shake, she moved forward without hesitation until she was stood next to him. She didn't say anything; if he ignored her presence, she would retreat and leave him to grieve in private. He didn't ignore her, though. He leaned into her shoulder and his hand fumbled for hers, entwining their fingers and holding on tightly. His other hand wiped across his eyes as he focussed on Catherine's name on the headstone mutely. She moved closer, enfolding his hand in both of hers and resting her chin on his shoulder, and they stood quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually he roused himself and squeezed her hand. "Let's go home," he said gruffly, and they turned away, hand in hand.  
When they had put some distance between themselves and the grave, Ruth spoke. "I came to tell you that Towers has given you the rest of the week off."  
Harry looked at her in surprise. "Really?"  
She smiled knowingly, and he chuckled softly and nodded. "Five whole days," he mused, "whatever shall I do with myself?"  
"Well, I thought we could go to the cottage, and spend the first few days catching up on lost sleep, and the rest catching up on other, er, luxuries we've had to deny ourselves."  
He was amused by her unorthodox euphemism for sex, and couldn't resist teasing her. "Whilst I'm flattered by your inflated opinion of my sexual prowess, I think you may need to pack a book or two as well. Just in case I don't live up to expectations."  
She laughed, relieved that they were back to the familiar ease that had existed between them before this whole debacle started. But still she felt the need to clear the air and tugged on his hand until he stopped and faced her.  
"I'm sorry, Harry."  
He sighed and looked down at his feet. "So am I. I shouldn't have gone to Towers on little more than a hunch. But it's done, we learn from it, we move on. Yes?"  
She nodded, touched by the fervent resolve in his eyes, and said, "I've just handed Towers a strategy document on how to extract ourselves from the recent cosying up to the Russians."  
Harry lifted his eyebrows. "And how did he take that?"  
"Surprisingly meekly. Said it would come in handy."  
Harry laughed. "You see," he said, running a finger down her cheek, "we're an unstoppable force when we work together."  
His eyes twinkled mischievously and he leaned into her, whispering his next words seductively into her ear. "And that includes making love, which I would very much like to do sooner rather than later, so get a move on, Miss Evershed."

- 0 –

_Three days later  
The cottage, Suffolk_

He was inside her, and nothing else mattered. Outside the cottage the rain fell softly, but in here the fire warmed his back and bathed her skin in a golden glow. His eyes devoured her; from the place they were joined, over her full, peaked breasts and up to her face and the all-consuming devotion in her expression. It was the only aphrodisiac he needed and he strained harder, buried himself even deeper until her breasts quivered on each forceful stroke and her leg slipped a little higher up his hip in response. Her back arched and she hummed appreciatively, her fingers digging into his biceps. He was only dimly aware of the crackling of the flames and behind that, the distant sigh of the ocean; the only sounds he focussed on were the product of this ageless dance of copulation, of bodies moving together in a rhythm that was probably engrained in their DNA. And they worked together well, guiding each other with fleeting touches and intimate murmurs to each derive optimal fulfilment. Yes, he thought hazily, they were _so very good_ at this, and it was made all the more poignant by the heart-ache, loss and strife that had preceded it. But then he got distracted by the first contraction of her inner muscles around him, and he knew she was about to fall. He thrust hard and deep, once, one hand simultaneously finding her hip and pressing her flush against him, and then held still as her orgasm washed over her, every muscle and every sinew tensed with the effort. When his name tumbled from her lips in a low moan at the height of it, he finally understood the full meaning of the word 'bliss'. _Perfect happiness or serene joy_. The scrape of her nails over his buttock shattered his ability to think and he let go, thrusting haphazardly and focussing on his own pleasure for the few seconds it took to find his own release. Her hands smoothed down his flanks as her legs tightened around him, and her inner muscles squeezed him once, and then again quite deliberately until he spilled inside her. He was barely done when she pulled him down on her and wrapped her arms tightly around him. His lips found the pulse in her throat and rested there, feeling it gradually slow down in tandem with his own. When at last he was capable of speech, he murmured one word, his lips caressing her skin as he did so.  
"Bliss."

_Fin_


End file.
